Resurrection
by HC247
Summary: In the pre-dawn alleys of Paris, Christine seeks the desire of her heart. Slight Easter themed one-shot. E/C


**_Disclaimer. It has been over a decade since I've written anything for Phantom, but I've recently fallen back in love with the story and wanted to attempt it again. I have a few other things in the works, but this was itching to get out today. I realize that I'm probably a bit rusty, but I hope you will give it a chance and, as always, any feedback is much loved and_** ** _appreciated. Happy Easter!_**

* * *

 ** _Easter Sunday, 1875_**

 ** _Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris_**

 _This. It is moments like this that I live for._

As the final notes of the orchestra faded away into silence, Christine felt the smile that bloomed on her lips grow wide. Thunderous applause echoed throughout the massive sanctuary and her chin dipped in acknowledgement of her fellow soloist, then to the full orchestra and chorus that surrounded her. At the maestro's signal, she sank into a deep curtsy, slighting uncomfortable doing so in a church instead of the opera house that she was used to. Then again, such a performance in the grand cathedral was a special occasion for the holiday. Still, she felt her eyes raise to the ceiling and slide close in a moment of reverent thanks for the opportunity that had just come to pass.

When she opened them, her thoughts were fully elsewhere.

Rising, her foot suddenly found a rhythm reminiscent of the oratorio's final movement as she awaited the signal for dismissal from the concert master. What in heaven's name was causing the wait? The applause had ceased, musicians had begun to dissemble three instrument and, except for a few well-wishers, the crowds had begun to disperse, no doubt eager to return to their homes and the feasts that waited there. Her destination, however, had yet to be determined.

 _I must not miss him again._

There had been other occasions eerily similar to this performance. She was certain of it.

The first time had been six months before. Certain her eyes had betrayed her, she had thought no more of it.

Until a month later when she sensed it again. Small signs and never the same. A flash of dark fabric here, an echo there.

He was nothing if not subtle; she would give him that. The cat and mouse game had been intriguing, no doubt, but she had learned a few tricks too.

And it was time to beat him at his own game.

Refusing to await permission that might never come, Christine quit the stage and slipped quietly down the narrow corridors of the chapel, following only her heart and the sense that propelled her forward. Eventually, she found herself in a darkened alley on the West side of Notre Dame, pitch back and eerily quiet in the pre-dawn hours. _How ironically appropriate_.

Letting out a soundless breath, she crept forward, one foot placed silently in front of the other until her lips lifted in a satisfied smirk as a flash of midnight rounded the corner in front of her. _There you are._

She sprung forward, managing to maintain her silent pursuit and rounded wth corner with a cry of victory to find herself face to face with...

...a rose.

 _Damn you, Erik._ Extending a hand down, she lifted the flower, bringing the petals to her nose and inhaling their sweet scent. "You will not escape me forever"

"And should you succeed in ensnaring me?" The velvet voice came from behind her, causing her breath to draw sharp and the rose to flutter to the ground. "What diabolical plan is forming inside your pretty little head?"

Christine did not answer and instead turned to face the man she had sought for the better part of a year. "I knew you would come."

The mask gleamed despite the darkness. "Then it seems you have caught me. Congratulations, my dear" The cloak behind him billowed as the Phantom gave a sweeping bow. "You alone have succeeded where others have tried and failed."

In no mood for his games, she sighed, "Really, Erik. Must you be so dramatic?"

He straightened and stepped away. "What do you want, Christine?"

Where did she begin? "Why have you been following me?" When he opened his mouth to reply, she pressed on. "Don't even try to deny it, Erik. I am not the witless ingenue I was in years past. I know you have been there. My mind was not deceived to believe in its own imaginings."

When he could do nothing but clear his throat in response, she felt a small thrill of victory run up her spine. "I suppose... I could not resist the chance to hear you sing." For the first time that evening, he met her eyes. "It seems I never could."

Christine swallowed, wrapping her arms around herself. "I suppose I do owe you thanks where that is concerned. After all, had it not been for your methods, however questionable." She shot him a sardonic glare and he consequently glanced away, "Then I would not be where I am today."

"The youngest soprano asked to solo as 'Mary Jacobe' in Bach's 'Easter Oratorio'." Erik quoted, pride coloring his tone. "and at _Cathédrale Notre-Dame de Paris_ no less."

"It was an honor to be selected."

"And you were, as usual, nearly flawless." he conceded with a slight incline of his head. "I am proud of you, Christine."

"Erik..." Stepping toward him, she asked, "Why didn't you come for me? Surely you heard the news when the wedding was called off."

He stiffened at the reference to the tremulous past they had shared, a past he had made his life's mission to forget. "Your choice was made very clear that night, Christine. Why would I wish to humiliate myself a second time when I knew where your heart truly lay?"

With a roll of her brown eyes, Christine released an exasperated sigh. "Really, Erik. For someone as brilliant as you are, you really are quite stupid at times."

He could only answer with an indignant sputter. "Excuse me?"

"Do you have any idea why I've remained in Paris for the last five years? Not for any lingering love for Raoul, at least not romantically." When he scoffed, she reached for his hand, twining her fingers through the leather of his gloves. "I had hoped you would find me again."

"Why, Christine?" His eyes were pleading, his voice desperate for a reason to believe her. "What chance would we even have? There has been nothing but pain for us thus far. " _So much pain._

She clutched his hand tighter "Sometimes, pain yields beauty." Pressing her lips to the leather of his gloves, she rested her forehead against his hands. "I tried to do what was expected of me, Erik. The first time, I chose what I thought I was supposed to choose. I chose the life that I thought I wanted. But that was then." Rising her face to his gemstone glare, she attempted a weak smile. "Today, I am choosing the path that my heart wants. We've both made so many mistakes, Erik. Don't we deserve a chance to make them together?"

"Christine, this is madness." He muttered, dropping her hands and stepping away. "Go. Return to your luxury and leave me in peace."

Staring incredulously at his retreating back, she sputtered, "Are you truly walking away from me?"

"So it would seem," he snapped back, stalking down the alley.

 _Not again, Erik._ With a swirl of her skirts, she gave chase, catching his arm as he was about to slip through the main thoroughfare. Thrown off balance by her assault, he rounded on her, eyes blazing in the darkness. "Are you mad, woman?" he bellowed, advancing on her. "What do you want from me?"

"The only things I ever have," she answered on a harsh whisper, meeting him toe to toe. "Your music," Her hands grasped the lapels of his coat, pulling his body closer into her own,"your heart," Pushing herself onto her toes so they were eye to eye, she ghosted her lips over his, gently at first, closer and closer, inch by inch. "And your soul." Her final confession was lost in his kiss, the gentle back-and-forth push of her lips against his, deepening to something much more fervent as his arms tightened around her.

Her nose bumped the cool porcelain of the mask haphazardly as she kissed him and she wondered what it would feel like to kiss him without that barrier between them. Still, when he pulled away a moment later, she was left slightly shaken, clinging to his lapels and feeling his chest heave against her. Christine blinked, willing her body back into a state of semi-relaxation before flicking her eyes up to Erik's face.

His eyes were still closed, arms still tightly holding her to him. Mustering what she hoped was a convincing smile, she leaned further into his chest as his eyes slid open. "As I said, Erik. I know where my heart lies."

He stared down at her, shaking his head, yet did not let her go. "Christine..."

With a chuckle, she lay her head against him, sliding her arms around his waist. "I've waited for you, Erik, for five years. We've hurt each other and yet, here we are." Her arms tightened around his middle. "Don't you think this, of all days, is appropriate to begin anew?"

"Ah, yes. Easter Sunday." He mused aloud. "I do suppose the day of a god's rising from the dead might be counted as a new beginning."

"When He has given you back to me, I shall sing His praises all the louder." She smiled up at him, pressing a kiss to his exposed cheek and then raising her lips to his ear. "I choose you, Erik. Today and every day forward."

"God help me," he whispered. "Christine, I love you," and when she whispered the words back to him, Erik swore he could die in that moment as a happy man.

Winding her arms around his neck, Christine pulled him close and pressed her lips to his again. In the distance, the bells of the cathedral rang clear, signaling the sunrise mass would begin soon.

A new dawn on a new day.

And an old love beginning again.


End file.
